My Eternal Memories
by vivienn
Summary: What if the Crow brought back someone who had derserved every bit of his death? plz rr. rated for language.
1. Ava's remembrance

I really didn't expect it to come to this. Micah always told me how much he loved me, how much he wanted to protect me. Then we moved in with the Silent. Stupid name, really. None of them could pull off silence for even a minute. They have these raging parties every night.

It's fun at first. Most of the Silent are runaways, staying there for a place to crash for a week or so, and then move on. That was how it was supposed to be with Micah and me. We'd stay there, because he knew the guy who ran the warehouse. I don't remember his name now. Jimmy, maybe. Or Jamie. Something like that.

Micah started to get really weird. He died his hair red. Not that I was complaining. It was a pretty color, sort of like a crayola. I liked it. But then he started dressing like the rest of them, in long black dusters and heavy combat boots. He always wore black, so I didn't really notice at first. Then he was into the leather/chains phase. It wierded me out, to tell the truth. Eventually he got me into it. I even got this cool contacts that bond to your eyes. They actually change the color. I regret that now. I always wear sunglasses. I'm blind in one eye. That happened right after we put them in, though. It dyed my iris and then burned my pupils into oblivion. Turned out they were illegal. We couldn't do anything about it. So now, I have to live with yellow werewolf eyes and a handicap.

After a while, I got sick of Micah's "new friends". I told him I wanted to leave. And you know what he did? He laughed at me. He told me they all loved me, like he did. He said they wanted to be my friends. Then he pushed me down the stairs. He said it was an accident. And I actually believed him at first.

So I changed, so I would look like them. I dyed my hair all these cool new colors, like green and orange streaks one week. Purple, yellow, and blue the next. Hair dye was expensive, I guess. I don't remember. We never actually purchased the boxes.

Soon, I got used to all the strange drugs they were using. I popped them like candy, and throw back a few drinks while I was at it. I got used to the bondage going on in the hallways. I used caffeine pills to stay up all night, and Micah told me how pretty I looked with dark circles under my eyes. I got used to coming down and finding some nameless guy, or girl, breathing in my face and pawing at me. Usually drunk. Micah didn't care. Most of the time.

Then Scott showed up. He was fun. The best thing about Scott was that he was almost never high. He was a total candy kid. He had all these clown balloon pants in neon colors and shiny plastic bracelets. He helped me make some. I really liked them. Micah didn't. He chewed them off my wrist and swallowed a bead before throwing them out. I told Scott they ripped by accident. I pierced his belly button for him. He bled a lot, and I kissed his stomach.

He kissed me. He didn't fall asleep while he was kissing me, either. He didn't put his hands around my throat or bite my shoulder or prick me with pins. We had sex that night, while Micah was having an orgy with maybe ten other people.

I don't think Micah even noticed I stopped going to his room and stayed in Scott's. He didn't notice, that is, until he walked in on us with a girl on each arm. It took a minute for him to recognize me, but when he did, he started screaming.

He pushed the girls away and started hitting Scott really hard. He was really drunk, and stoned out of his mind. I tried to pull him away, but he pushed me back, and I fell on one of the broken chairs on the floor. I almost died that night, or so Scott told me. I still have the scar.

Micah tried to help me up, but I started screaming at him, and then I passed out. All I remember was being glad I still had my jeans on, and then seeing Scott launch himself at Micah.

When I woke up, we were someplace else. Scott and I, that is. There was incredible pain in my abdomen. We were in a car, and Scott was looking out a window, chewing on his lower lip. He didn't know I was awake. I pulled my shirt up and looked at my stomach. It was wrapped in a bandage, blood seeping through.

"I was going to take you away anyway." I didn't realize Scott was talking to me, at first. "If you wanted to, I mean. I was going to take you far, far away." His eyes were rimmed in red, like he had been crying. Or drinking. I smelled vodka on his breath from my seat, and I just closed my eyes and fell back asleep.

The next time I woke up we were in the parking lot of a McDonald's. Scott sat next to me, a half eaten hamburger sitting between.

"What happened?" My own voice sounded so small to me, so hoarse and unused. Like I had been a mute for most of my life, and had just now learned how to speak.

Scott looked at me as if he didn't know me. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, and turned back to the window. "We got away."

That was all he said. He started the engine and we kept driving. After that, we never talked about the Silent again.


	2. Ressurection

_Disclaimer..._

_There has been some confusion about Ava's name. To the one person who brought it up, she was Avery but when they ran away she just changed it. Same with Scott/Drew... Probably because my irrational fear of stalkers bled into my writing._

_One Year Later_

Micah laid quietly in his shallow grave, the blackness behind his eyelids unceasing and eternal. His chest, disfigured by the tattoo of a snarling dragon, was unmoving beneath his slender fingers. Dirt filled his mouth and his nose.

The clap of thunder made his yes snap open, his heart thud painfully behind his ribcage. He thrust his hands upward, against the loosely packed dirt, clawing out from his place in the ground.

A bird squawked loudly, offering encouragement as he pushed his head through the grass, like some deranged infant emerging from Gaia's womb. His hands shook with the effort, and once he was free he vomited in the grass.

The bird called out to him again, forcing him to look up. After the blackness of the earth, even the clouded night made his eyes burn and tear. Clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to empty his stomach once again, Micah stood, holding desperately to the trunk of a tree the bird perched in. It cocked its ugly head at him, ruffling its oily black wings.

Without warning, it took off, flapping strongly through the night air. Micah took a moment, gaping stupidly after it, before stumbling through the thick weeds, towards the lights of the city, far away.

His thought swarmed madly, until he could focus on only one thing.

_Ava_, he repeated desperately to himself. _I'm going to find you. I'm going to kill him._

...

Sara opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh glare of the sunlight. Unwillingly, she stood to pull down the blinds, staring across the hot expanse of desert. Back in bed, Drew rolled over, holding a pillow over his eyes to block the unforgiving light.

Sara walked from the tiny bedroom to the kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine and checking the refrigerator. To her disappointment, it contained only a quarter of a gallon or soured milk, two small, blackened tomatoes, and an opened can of flat beer. She checked the coffee can beside the couch, which contained a few dollars and a red button.

Sitting on the couch, Sara wondered for the millionth time if she had made a mistake. From her seat, she could see Drew, sprawled across the bed, dark hair falling over one eye. He was snoring softly, his long arm dangling off the edge. Tears burned the edge of her eyes, her bad one aching.

Sighing, Sara put on her sunglasses, pouring a cup of lukewarm, frothy coffee, and going out the torn screen door to sweep the front sidewalk. As usual, the gravelly parking lot was deserted. Except for their loud neighbors, no one ever stayed at the Stardust Motel. Hot wind blew the dust in a small whirlwind around her knees, and Sara hastily stepped inside, before it could get through the door and all over the shag carpet, which was a bitch to clean.

"Hey." Drew was sitting up in the bed, blinking at her. His hair was tousled, and dark shadows marked his chronic insomnia. "What are you doing?"

"Dust storm last night." Sara whispered, leaning against the closed door. "I thought it might look better if I cleaned off the steps."

Drew squinted at her, as though she were disappearing. He stifled a sigh and heaved himself off the bed, moving stiffly over to her. He cupped her chin in his hands, kissing her full on the lips and pressing his forehead to hers.

"I love you." He whispered finally, playing with a strand of blood red hair.

It took Sara a moment to reply, but she forced the words out.

"Me too."


	3. War Path

_Disclaimer... _

_Here is my apology for taking so long to update, to both the faithless and faithful readers... finals? shit i don't know... i would also like to thank OnyxDrake for your reveiws and enthusiasm... we could all take a page out of your book (especially you, people who read it and don't review. i've had 22 hits last timei checked. let's see a little participation)... um enjoy._

Micah knew what he had to do now. The image of Scott burned behind his eyes, raising the bloodstained gun.

"_She's mine." He shouted, squeezing the trigger. Pain blossomed in Micah's knee, but he couldn't move. Scott, looking unsure, shot three more times before achieving his goal. "Damn it, Micah. Stay away from her."_

"_You will never love her like I do." Micah whispered back fiercely. "No one can ever copy the way I lover her. You'll never replace me."_

_Scott had that look in his eyes, the one Micah remembered from when he first met Ava. He remembered the crazed gleam staring back at him from the surface of the mirror. He knew he was right. No one could ever love her like he had. Certainly not Scott. _

"_You aren't ever going to be good enough for her." He continued. Blood welled in the back of his throat, the taste of iron dominating his thoughts. He spat on the ground. _

_Scott put his boot on Micah's chest, kicking him back into the hollow grave. He raised the gun, a feral gleam shining in his blank eyes. "I can sure as hell try."_

_He shot the gun again, and the taste of blood rose to a fever pitch before Micah could no longer think. _

The bar was smoky and mostly empty. The bird sat on his shoulder, an unwelcome companion leading him to his unholy destiny.

The bartender pretended not to notice at first, but the drunken patrons could not ignore it, until he was forced to say something.

"Hey, bird-boy. You know how many diseases are on that grimy thing? Get it outta here." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, causing Micah to look up.

"Excuse me?" He murmured softly, midnight blue hair shadowing his face.

The bartender curled his upper lip in disgust. He pulled a shotgun from under the counter, cocking it indifferently. "You heard what I said. Get the damn thing outta here."

Micah looked down at his drink, the image of an unkempt lost soul staring back at him from the poisonous surface. He shook back his long hair and stood slowly. "Don't want no trouble, mister." He muttered, moving toward the door.

The bartender wasn't expecting his quick movement, and Micah pulled the gun away, forcing it against his eye socket.

"Where are the Silent?" He snarled, ignoring the flurried of movement from the other patrons. The bird cawed raucously, lifting it wings and jumping onto the bar. "Where are they?" He shouted, forcing the gun even deeper.

"I- I don't know. I swear. Those damn crazy kids are always running around somewhere. They don't come here." The bartender raised his hands in surrender, shaking in his terror. Micah pulled the gun away, smiling slightly.

He pulled the trigger, and the man flew back into the shelf of bottles. Micah leaned over the counter and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of booze. He saluted the motionless figure, the bird making its way back to his shoulder as he headed out into the night.

The streets beckoned to him, as they always had. He fingered the gun in his pocket, dodging street walkers and beggars, until he came to an empty, quiet-looking building. He slipped through the door.

Music pounded from the heavy set of speakers. Strobe lights flashed blue and green in the sultry sweat-slicked air.

A girl in a rattlesnake print mini skirt and a red bra lazed in a folding chair. Next to her, three men filled a needle with a white substance and tied off her upper arm with a thin rubber tube.

Three girls were dancing with each other, their eyes glowing as they watched him make his way toward the metal staircase. He swore he knew the girl with full body tattoos and a padlock in her ear, but then again they were the Silent. Everybody knew _everybody_, intimately.

The stairs were less crowded, but just as sexually charged and just as dark. On the second level he found the room he was looking for. Jamie Quinn had started the Silent, more or less, when he was fourteen. Nearly ten years later, his fun little club had mutated into some kind of cheap thrill ride, which any cop in the city would be glad to bust. Mysterious connection in the law enforcement kept Jamie above persecution, and by association, most of the Silent.

Micah didn't bother knocking on the door. He kicked it open, actually. Jamie, sniffing coke off some little girl's girl, gave a particularly loud snort and fell backward off his chair. His hair, divinely blond, was longer than Micah remembered. He seemed thinner. Otherwise, he was exactly the same.

"Aw, man, what the fuck." He grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. The girl grabbed her shirt and ran from the room, hitting Micah's arm in her haste. His upper lip curled in distaste, and he resisted the urge to hunt her down. "I know you man?" Jamie was mumbling.

Micah's eyes swiveled to the man who had once been his best friend. He wondered if Ava would still be with him if they had left the Silent as planned. Jamie's insistence had kept them behind, and here they were now.

Micah had a bullet in his chest and Ava was gone.

"You fucking should." He growled. He knocked a stack of magazines off the tarnished surface and sat cross-legged on it, leaning forward and pressing the barrel of the gun to Jamie's temple.

"Oh, shit. Man, what did I ever do to you?" Jamie whimpered, eyes widening like saucers. He pupils were wide and black, giving him an animalistic appearance.

"You got me shot, for one thing." Micah drawled. "But I don't really hold that against you. It was on my top ten list, anyway. Right under wrestle a shark." Jamie's drugged mind struggled to comprehend what should have been a recognizable indication. "Long time, no see Jamie. You remember me? No?" Jamie shook his head. "Micah. My name is Micah. Alarms going off yet?"

It took a moment, but it clicked. "No fucking way." Jamie breathed. "This is some fucking trip. What do you want, ghost man?"

"I want Ava." Micah said firmly. "Tell me where Scott and Ava went."

"Ava? That little whore you came in with? No clue. And I don't know who Scott is." He shrugged. Micah snaked his fingers around Jamie's spindly, tattooed throat. He tightened his grip slowly, so Jamie wouldn't notice.

"Scott." He repeated. "He was that dumb shit kid who didn't take any drugs. The good kid. Tell me where they went. I know you remember them, Jamie. You aren't that stupid." He cocked the gun, the smooth metal burning his grip. Jamie started to realize that maybe this wasn't some drug-induced hallucination, after all. His swallowed and found it was becoming hard to breathe.

"Am I dying, man?" He whispered.

"You could say that." Micah said coldly. "Just tell me what you remember." Jamie paused for another long moment.

"Scott stole money from me." He said finally, licking his chapped lips. "Three hundred dollars. I tried to track them, but the only person who knew where they went disappeared. Dawn something. White Dawn. One of those hippie kids from the canyons." He sighed and relaxed. "You know, dying ain't so bad."

Micah let go of Jamie's throat and leaned back. "Try dying for a girl." He said sadly. He pulled the trigger and Jamie slumped forward onto his desk. Blood leaked from under the nest of his hair. Micah pocketed his gun and left the room, shoving his way through the crowd and back into the cold, smoggy freedom of the city.

_yeah, this chapter came out a little weird. i kind of rambled since i added a lot of it after I started the next chapter. the next one will be better, and I swear this time i'll update soon. thanks in advance..._


	4. Running

_Sorry about not updating for awhile- again. I know this chap. is short but i guess it was kind of a filler. Enjoy_

_Here's my disclaimer._

The lobby of the Moonlighters Theater was completely empty. Not that Sarah expected anybody to be in there, but it was still a bit disconcerting. The emptiness made her feel lonely.

The whining creak of the front doors made her muscles tense, but it was only Kelly: her coworker and sometimes friend.

"Hey, girl." Kelly took a sip of the unlabeled bottle in her hands and leaned against the counter beside Sarah. "You look tired."

Sarah lifted her head from her arms and stared hard at Kelly. "You think?" She shifted her gaze away and peered closely at a napkin dispenser. "I haven't been sleeping well, lately."

Kelly snorted and grabbed a straw. She stuck it in between her lips and drank from the bottle. "You know, saying you look tired is like saying this place is a fucking ghost town. What's wrong?"

"It's-" Sarah rubbed her pale face and yawned, tired suddenly. "It must be Drew." Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "I can't stand that damn hotel, and I think I'll be stuck with him for the rest of my life."

Kelly raised her eyebrows sympathetically, still drinking her mystery drink. "Did you tell him?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Sarah hissed, eyes darting to the doors and hallways. As if she expected Drew to magically appear from one of the corners.

"Hey!" Kelly said angrily. "It's not my fault you're too much of a pussy to say anything. If _I_ was-"

"That's enough Kelly." Sarah said curtly. "I haven't told him because I'm not going to tell him."

Kelly snorted and tossed the empty bottle into a trash can. "Good idea." She said sarcastically.

Sarah ignored her and let her hand rest on her stomach. She wondered if it was possible to hate, with every fiber of your being, your unborn child. Would that make her a monster?

Likely.

"I'm not going to tell him," she continued, "because it would mean we would have to stay together. I would never get away from him." Kelly appraised her silently. "If there's nothing connecting us, I don't have a reason to stay."

"This shouldn't be so hard for you." Kelly persisted gently. "Why don't you pack up and move in with me? You can just leave Drew."

"I can't." Sarah whispered, sitting on the counter. She bowed her head and rubbed her eyes.

"Sure you can." Kelly argued. "People do it all the time."

Sarah didn't reply. She owed Drew so much already. There was no way she could just _pack up and leave_. Besides, he was too young. Maybe not much younger than her in actual years, but he wasn't a man yet. She could never hurt him like that.

For now, she would just have to wait until he was tired of her. Maybe then he would leave her alone.


	5. White Dawn

Micah stole a car outside the warehouse, a souped-up Dodge Charger in electric green. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for a moment, he was tempted to smash it. He didn't want to remember himself. Only Ava.

The crow squawked and Micah was jerked from his silent reverie. He started the engine, having learned to hotwire cars and pick locks at a much younger age.

The canyons weren't really canyons. They were in a low desert valley at the base of some mountains. A large portion of some of the early members of the Silent had moved out there to start a small commune. White Dawn was a Native American girl who had never been part of the Silent, but was wildly popular with them because of her reputation as a shaman. She got her name from her hair, which was dyed white.

The drive to the canyons was short, mostly because Micah had the route committed to memory and because he was going seventy five.

White Dawn's house was dark. By all accounts, it could have been abandoned. Micah parked his car. The bird squalled, flapping its wing to stay on his shoulder as he walked briskly to the door.

"Dawn!" He shouted. "White bitch, I need to talk to you! Get out here." He banged on the flimsy screen door until his knuckles were bloody. He watched, by the light of the moon, as the abrasions healed themselves.

"What do you want?"

White Dawn stood at the side of the house, a shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes were clouded, as though Micah had woken her from a deep sleep.

He jumped off the porch and headed toward her. Sensing danger, she tensed her muscles and prepared to run. Then she recognized him.

"Jesus Christ." She whispered. "Micah. What the hell- where have you been?" Micah grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the wooden clapboards of the house. "What are you doing?" She snapped, wincing.

"You helped Scott and Ava run away, didn't you?" He accused. "Jamie told me."

"I- I didn't do anything." White Dawn stammered. The bird shrieked loudly, and she glared at it. Something in her eyes changed, and her lips parted in a silent O. "Micah, Scott never said why you disappeared." She said softly, wide, dark eyes focused on the bird. "Is that what I think it is?"

"That depends on what you think it is." Micah said. He let her go and stepped back.

"There is a place where the restless souls wander." She whispered. "Burdened by the weight of their own sadness, they wait for a chance to make the wrong things right. Sometimes, a crow shows them the way."

"Wrong." Micah said bluntly. "I'm not sad. I'm angry. Pissed off. Incensed. Whatever you want to call it. I'm looking for Scott and Ava, so tell me where they went."

"I gave them money, what I could spare." White Dawn said. She stared off into space, as though recalling a bad memory. "I gave them new names so Jamie wouldn't find them. Ava laughed. I remember. She said 'Jamie is too coked-up to bother.' But I knew."

"Where are they?"

"I can't tell you." She said. "I swore. They love each other, I can tell. I can't hurt them."

"Tell me where they are or so help me God." He grabbed her by the throat and leaned against her. "I'll-"

He didn't see the knife in her hands until it was buried to the hilt in his rib cage. He frowned, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish, and took a step back. His stomach burned.

"Bitch." Was all he could say. The he pulled the knife out from his stomach, and let White Dawn watch the wound close up.

"Dios mio." She breathed. She stared hard at Micah, and took off running into the rocky desert.

Micah chased after her. He was stronger, faster. He overtook her easily, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her to the ground. She cried out as her head struck a rock.

"No!" She screamed, struggling. "I can't tell you. Let go!" Micah grabbed her and shook her. Her forehead was sticky with blood, and he pulled out his gun and pressed it into her throat.

"Where are they?" He shouted.

"Fuck you."

He paused, the pointed the gun at her palm and fired. She wailed out, long and loud. Blood splattered over Micah's face.

"You wanna lose another hand?" He snarled. White Dawn pulled her good hand free and slapped him. He held it down and broke the fingers. "You going to tell me?" She spat on him.

"Forget it, Micah." She mocked breathlessly. "Ava loved Scott. Not you."

He slammed the butt off the gun into her cheek. "She only loved me." He yelled. "Only me. Never forget that."

Her eyes had that glazed look in them again. Micah sat back and waited. "Twenty miles away." She said quietly. "I left them at a motel, the Moonlight. That's all I know." There was blood on her chin, blood pouring from the wounds on her face. Micah realized he had killed her. "I know that Ava love you. She always will. But you're so bad. So bad for her."

Micah stood and cocked his gun. "The only bad I have left in me is all for Scott." He said.

The gunshot echoed through the canyons.


	6. Home Coming

_Disclaimer. Also, I am citing the line from the Crow: "There is a place... a crow shows them the way" spoken by White Dawn in the last chapter. I forgot to add the disclaimer so here it is. Also, forgotten apologies to my readers (both faithful and faithless) for taking so dman long to update. Enjoy._

Sarah flipped on the radio, tying her long hair back. She had to clean the room, or they would be evicted. Honestly? Neither her nor Drew were taken with the idea of cleaning a ninety dollar a week motel room. But they had nowhere else to go, and they certainly couldn't go back into town looking for money or a place to stay.

The door opened. Sarah looked up to find Drew in the doorway, holding it for support. She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you drunk?" She demanded. He shook his head, dark curls brushing his high cheekbones.

"Sarah." He said weakly. "Ava. I love you."

Sarah turned away, spraying some kind of cleaner onto the counter, right onto some kind of food stain. "Me too." She replied. She felt Drew's arms around her waist, and she tensed up a little bit. "Drew, I have to clean. We have to. We have nowhere else to go."

"Kelly told me." Drew whispered in her ear. "She called me, said you would never admit it and I should just pack my stuff up now because I'm just holding you back." Her breath caught in her throat. "Is it true?"

"D-Drew-" Sarah began. She pulled away and turned to face him. "I was- I was going to tell you."

He slapped her. She gasped, bringing her hand to the stinging spot on her cheek. "You see what you made me do?" He yelled. "I don't like hitting you, Ava."

"Don't call me that!" She screamed furiously. "I'm Sarah now. Sarah stuck with Drew in this god damn desert motel. Ava was with Micah, and Micah is gone now. I am Sarah."

Drew looked like he was ready to cry or to strangle her, or maybe both. He grabbed the bucket of cleaners, given to her by the motel maid, and hurled them against the wall. "How could you say that to me?" He shouted. "Do you have any idea what I've done for you?" He was backing her into a corner. "Any idea at all?"

"Of course I know." She said. "Even if you never told me, I knew. You don't understand, Scottie." She looked down at her hands. "You never gave me a choice. No matter what he's done to me, I can never leave Micah behind."

Drew, Scott. Sarah, Ava. Fake names- what was White Dawn thinking?

Ava turned away and put her face in her hands.

"All right." Scott said slowly. "So then, tell me. Tell me what's wrong. I'll fix it." He grabbed her wrists, eyes pleading. "I can fix it."

"No you can't." Micah said from the doorway. Scott and Ava froze, like deer in headlights. "I can."


	7. End

_Disclaimer goes here._

I don't know what I felt when I saw Micah. Regret, first of all. I know that for sure. Then some kind of strange mix of fear and panic.

I thought he was dead. Scott said- no. Scott _implied_ he was dead. I couldn't have misinterpreted that. Besides, wouldn't he have found us sooner? It had been almost a year, right?

From the look on Scott's face, I knew Micah had been dead the last time they had seen each other. I just knew it. He looked vaguely sick. He looked horrified.

He also had a gun.

"Scott." I said softly, almost pleadingly. He turned to me, eyes widened in fear.

"Stay out of this." He mumbled.

A big, ugly black bird was perched on Micah's shoulder. It squawked loudly and he lifted a finger to stroke its wing. I don't think I'd ever seen him so gentle.

"You're- you can't be here." Scott said. "I- I shot you. I buried you." My skin crawled at the thought of sleeping with a murderer. The bird shrieked again. "Fucking bird!" He yelled. I don't know if he was aiming for Micah or the bird, but he hit the bird. It cawed out loudly, flopping on the ground with one wing all bloody and bent wrong.

Scott had frozen in some kind of weird trance, staring down at the thing as it scuttled over the ground like a crab. Micah had grabbed his arm, hissing in pain. He hadn't been shot. I could tell because there was no blood.

"That bird." Scott said. I didn't know what he meant, but he shot at it twice more, hitting it once.

"Scott, please." I begged.

Micah lunged forward, breathing heavily. He hit Scott. The gun flew from his hand, and they fell backwards onto the floor. Scott landed on top, one hand wrapped around Micah's throat.

I couldn't tell who had the upper hand. They were a blur. Also, I was concentrating more on the bird, which had managed to make its way over to me. I picked it up.

Its feathers were greasy with blood and something like oil. I set it on the table, but it squalled loudly and flew off, falling to the ground and making its way to gun, which sat on the floor about two feet away from me.

I had a choice now. A few choices actually. I could run, or I could pick up the gun. And if I picked up the gun, what should I do with it? I'd never shot a gun before. Movies made it look easy.

I wanted to run really badly. I wanted to run as far as I possibly could, and let these to kill each other.

I grabbed the gin. I don't know why, but I did. And I screamed, as loudly as I could, "Stop it!"

Micah hit Scott once more, and then he realized I had the gun. It wasn't pointed at anyone in particular, but I think he found that to be more of a threat than if it had been aimed at him.

"Ava." Scott panted.

I had had enough of him. I really had. But I just couldn't do it. Suddenly Micah's hands were on mine, aiming the gun for Scott, and before I knew it he had pulled the trigger.

"No!" I screamed. "No, no. Micah! Why? Why would you do that?"

My knees gave out, and Micah had to haul me up. "Ava!" He was shouting in my ear. "Ava." He lowered his voice. "I love you, Ava."

And I realized, from somewhere, I still loved him just as much.

_Finally done. Thanks so much for reading, and for those of you who stuck it out I much appreciate that._


End file.
